


Into the Shattered Continent

by JackBivouac



Series: Ruins of Azlant [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bestiality, Birthing, Body Horror, Bondage, Breeding, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Furry, Gang Rape, Group Sex, Humiliation, Interspecies Sex, Monsters, Multi, Other, Oviposition, Paralysis, Rape, Tentacle Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-06 06:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18382445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: The adventures of the surviving colonists in Talmandor





	1. Seed Pods

With the day still young, the Roaan organized the survivors into teams to gather resources and ready themselves for nightfall on this unknown island. Santrier, Casting, and Urvic were in the group sent to search for water.

Not far into the dense, tropical forest, they discovered a river winding down from the foothills. While the river’s source wasn’t immediately visible, they needed only follow the roar of a waterfall into the clearing.

Large, flat rocks covered in green moss dotted the waterfall’s plunge pool. A stream continued north into forest. With no immediate signs of danger, the middle-aged Santrier, thirty-something Casting, and twenty-something Urvic whooped and raced to the water’s edge.

The three men splashed their naked, sun-browning bodies with the cool, fresh water more precious than gold. They dunked their heads into the pool and slurped it down their parched throats. 

They did not notice the strange tracks in the muddy between the waterfall and pool. Nor did they notice the silently snaking tentacles until they wrapped around the men’s necks.

Santrier, Casting, and Urvic screamed into the waters, clawing at their throats and the rubbery tentacle holding them under. Much to their panicking pulse and expending breath, they found that every move and minute beneath the waters drained them of their strength.

Such was the toxic secretions of the chuul, an eight-foot, six hundred and fifty pound crustacean. It hefted their unconscious bodies with ease out from the pool, lifting them by its hold around their throats. 

The waters poured off from its lobster-like shell as it rose from the pool itself. Its beady eyes blinked from tall stalks. Its mouth was surrounded by a full beard of the toxic tentacles now laying the men out upon the mossy stones.

The chuul couldn’t kill them. Not with a full womb of eggs in need of living hosts. But the men wouldn’t stay unconscious for long.

The chuul’s tentacles coiled around the full stretch of their torsos, pinning their arms tightly to their sides. A set of two tentacles each wrapped around their ankles, spreading their legs.

The chuul crawled forward, all three of their lower bodies straddled beneath its shell and heavy, jointed legs. Three red, segmented ovipositors like giant, ribbed worms slithered out from its underbelly.

The men woke as soon as the worms’ rounded heads crested through the painfully stretched mouths of their assholes. Santrier, Casting, and Urvic screamed. They struggled to squirm and free themselves, but with so many tentacles secreting their draining toxins into their naked flesh, the three were effectively paralyzed.

The chuul’s worms tore through the walls of their helpless shafts, pistoning into their assholes. Paralyzed but not numbed, the three felt each and every wall-ripping pound. 

The chuul’s anal slamming sent shocks of pure feeling bursting through their anuses. Against their will, their cocks rose at the spasms wracking through their torn shafts. The young Urvic couldn’t even hold back the traitorous moan building in his throat.

With their shafts primed, the chuul’s worms shuddered and pulsed. Soft-shelled eggs pumped one by one into the depths of their anal cavities. The eggs’ weight banging right up against their g-spots.

Casting screamed between the moaning Urvic and the jaw-clenched Santrier. The chuul’s worms only continued to piston and pump. Cum burst from Urvic’s dick, splattering onto his egg-swollen stomach.

His popping sent off a chain reaction. Casting burst next, his scream twisting into a half-pleasured sob. Santrier came last, spilling his seed onto his own swollen stomach with a grunt through his teeth.

The chuul retracted its ovipositors. Its tentacles loosened around the three, raped and debased men. It crawled off into the fast-moving waters of the stream.

Much to their shame, the three were too weak to do anything but lie upon the mossy stones while their swollen anuses winked closed. In that shame and outrage, they swore vengeance on the only one they could make pay. The one who’d sent them out on this utterly fucked quest. The uppity, androgynous bitch Roaan.


	2. The Price of Peace

Roaan, Machi, and Pell were the members of the only group to remain in the ruined settlement. They scavenged for what useful materials they could find and moved them to the safer storage of the church of Erastil, the largest building still intact.

Machi was a catfolk with storm gray fur and bright blue eyes. Elegant white socks stretched from the tips of her paws to her elbows and knees.

Pell was a gnome with glittery olive skin and bright red hair. Her eyes were as green as the tropical forest.

They jumped as the doors of the church were flung wide open. Santrier, Casting, and Urvic marched in glowering, their bellies swollen as though pregnant.

"Oh my gods, are you alright?" asked Roaan, rushing toward them. "What happened?"

"You did," growled Santrier. He seized Roaan by the hair, twisting his fistful to force their yelping "leader" to their knees.

"Stop! What are you doing!" yelled Machi, running to Roaan's aid. Casting and Urvic caught her by the arms, holding her back.

Pell, frozen by the pulpit, said nothing. She knew a mutiny when she saw one. This could get ugly very quickly.

"You're gonna take our dicks right now in payment for getting raped on that fucking ship and raped getting water. Got that, 'Leader?'"

"No! Fuck you, Santrier!" said Machi, struggling to pull free of his wingmen.

"Machi, it's fine," said Roaan on their knees. "I...am responsible. Just let me keep the peace."

Machi watched on in disbelieving horror as Roaan turned back to Santrier and opened their mouth. The older man grunted in satisfaction. He kept his fist tight in their hair, controlling, and shoved his dick in the leader's mouth.

"No! No!" screamed Machi. "Let Roaan go!"

With a jump on Casting and Urvic's toes and a desperate yank, she pulled her arms free. She flicked out her claws and lunged at Santrier.

Casting grabbed her tail. Machi fell just short, slamming heavily into a pew. Stars burst in her eyes. As she laid stunned over the wooden backboard, Urvic grabbed coils of thin, rough rope from the supply pile.

Casting and Urvic bound Machi's arms tight behind her back, forearm to forearm where her clawed hands dangled uselessly. They lashed her legs together at the knees and ankles. Propped over the back of the pew, both her mouth and crotch were perfectly exposed.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Casting asked Urvic, his grin sinister.

Urvic looked over at the gnome hiding in the shadow of the pulpit. "You're not gonna do anything stupid, are you?"

Pell shook her head. Roaan tried to turn theirs to see the commotion, but Santrier merely twisted his fist in their hair, forcing their sheathing mouth and throat deeper onto his cock.

Casting grabbed Machi by the hips. Urvic grabbed her by the head. Together, their dicks pounded the sense back into the catfolk.

Machi screamed and choked on Urvic's dick in her throat. Her bound body writhed between the both of them. But every wriggle of her hips ground her mound into the hard edge of the backboard and worked Casting's cock deeper into her anus.

Her choked screams constricted to gagging sobs. Casting and Urvic, ripping her walls apart, beat shocking spasms into her rawed shafts. Raped as they were, her penetrated throat and anus obeyed their deeper, rutting instinct, and squeezed down tight around Casting and Urvic's cocks.

Cum burst into Machi's treacherous throat and asshole, her shafts wringing her rapists' cocks for every last drop. They pulled out, leaving her leaking tears from the face and dripping seed from the ass.


	3. Sex on the Beach

The group sent to scout the beach for signs of danger, the colonists, or both, was comprised of the three passengers least known to the other survivors. They did not have family amongst the original colonists. They had kept to their separate cabins during the trip, so no one knew why these three had agreed to come on this ill-fated expedition.

The first was Renghe, a kitsune who always kept to his or their sleek-furred fox humanoid form. The second was Fret, an agathion-blooded aasimar. She had tall, brown ears and the white, tufted tail of a rabbit. The third was Themais, a nagaji with the fine lilac scales of a reptile, the claws and forked tongue of one, too.

They explored a rocky stretch of coast by sheer basalt cliffs near the mouth of the bay. Driftwood twisted along the rocks and patches of sandy beach. Plentiful crabs scuttled about in the shallow tide pools. One such crab took a cursory pinch of Fret's big toe.

"Yowch!" she yelped, grabbing her foot and hopping back in the sand. Which was uneven, so naturally she fell on her plump, naked ass.

Themais snickered, their violet tongue flicking out from between hers or their pointed teeth.

Renghe clapped a furred, white-clawed hand on Fret's shoulder. "Hey, good find. We can eat these if we cook 'em first."

"Hey! That's right!" said Fret, lowering her foot. She clambered back to standing only to bend forward, completely exposing her ass and slit, to gather crabs into her bare arms. "Yowch! Yowch! Yowch!"

Themais shook their head and left the fox and the goofus to find some kind of crab-holding receptacle.

What the three did not catch was sight of the winged, lizard-like creatures crouching in the dark splits between the rocks. This was the daytime nesting sight of a tribe of winged chupacabras. They crouched upon two muscular legs, a mane of spikes running down their scaly backs. Two large, reptilian wings quivered in anticipation. They waited until all three scavengers were squatting amidst the crabs, tossing them into a rusted crab-cage.

The chupacabras flapped their wings as one. The mighty gust of the entire tribe knocked all three into the snapping swarm of crabs. Renghe, Fret, and Themais screamed. Their was no time to think. They crawled out of the crabs to safer sands as fast as they could. "Safer" sands.

The chupacabras flew up from the rocks and soared down onto their prey, knocking the walking blood-bags face-down into the sand. But the three weren't going down without a fight. They spat the sand from their mouths, knees scuffing in the grains as they tried to rise, hands clawing at the creatures on their backs.

More chupacabras came to their landed brethren's aid. They slammed their clawed feet on either of the humanoids' calves, pining them to the sand. They caught each flailing forearm in their feet and pinned them out to either side of the humanoids, forcing their chests to the ground while their fully-exposed asses remained in the air.

The chupacabras on Renghe, Fret, and Themais leaned forward, resting the full weight of their bodies on their prey's asses and backs. Their razor-sharp teeth chomped down on the crook of their prey's neck and shoulder. Rich, red blood splurted into their ravenous, sucking maws.

Renghe gasped, Fret screamed, Themais hissed and all in pain. Their bodies writhed under the bloodsuckers, but the chupacabras had them helplessly restrained. Their squirming only rubbed their asses against their predators' large, reptilian cocks. The chupacabras' dicks hardened in the cleaves of their asses.

"No! No!" shrieked Fret.

Renghe and Themais knew better than to waste their draining strength on futile protest. They had just become the blood-bags and cum toilets of the entire tribe of chupacabras. 

The predators, heated from feeding, shoved their dicks through their prey's fear-clenched anuses. Renghe, Fret, and Themais' drained cries were weak, pathetic whines at best. The chupacabras' dicks tore their walls apart with the strength and burn of their own, lost blood. They pumped and churned their anal shafts to taut sheets of rawed nerve.

Fret's predator and rapist hit her pulped shaft right in her nerve's bulls-eye. Her anus clamped tight as iron around the chupacabra's dick. She squealed, her limbs and tail rigid and quivering. Her hips bucked deeper onto the chupacabra's dick with a begging squeeze.

Cum exploded into her slutty anus. At her predator's orgasming howl, the chupacabras on either side were swept into its howling rut as well. They blasted their loads into Renghe and Themais' raped holes. Then the three unlatched their bloodsucking grips and pulled out their cocks, making way for the next three hungry predators.

The entire tribe, nearly twenty strong, mounted the three humanoids for blood and rut. For every drop they drank, they gushed back in equal seed into Renghe's hole, Fret and Themais' holes. Once the tribe had finished feeding, they left the three crumpled in the sand and the puddles of thick, goopy cum oozing from their cunts and anuses.


	4. Miracles at the Church

Renghe, Fret, and Themais were not dead. But they stumbled like zombies back to the church of Erastil as soon as they crawl, hobble, and drag themselves up the sand. 

Renghe supported Fret on one arm and was supported by Themais on the other. Opening the doors of the church drained the last of their energy. They collapsed on their knees in the doorway and raised their drooping heads to a sight of unbelievable horror.

Roaan had been bound on their knees to a wooden pillar, their forearms lashed together above their head. Casting, his belly ballooned as though pregnant, forced their head down with both hands so they swallowed his cock to the hilt.

Machi, trussed in ropes and bent over the back of a wooden pew, bounced with each of Santrier’s thrusts into her pussy. He held her by the waist and tail to pound her deeper and harder. Her tears had turned her crumpled face into a mess of wet fur and whiskers.

Urvic, giggling hysterically, bound little Pell to the front of the pulpit like a ship’s masthead. Pell was shrieking through her gag. Her arms were pinioned to her sides and her legs tied together, but Urvic tied her off the ground, a rough rope around her waist and under her crotch taking her weight. She continued to sink lower, hands grasping helplessly, dangling feet flailing, as the rope crushed deeper into her slit.

The eyes of the three swollen men’s met those of the sapped and drained beach scavengers. Casting pulled out of Roaan’s bruised and swollen mouth, splattering their face with cum. Santrier came into Machi’s rawed pussy. Urvic tied off the rope harness squeezing Pell’s barely-there breasts into a semblance of swells.

“Get ‘em,” said Santrier.

There were three roars and three screams. Renghe, Fret, and Themais could barely crawl, much less fight off the three desperate men. 

They were dragged to a seat at the foot of the altar, their arms bound behind their backs. The three men wound ropes around all three of their torsos, binding them together to the altar’s front.

Before Urvic could tie off the ropes in front of them, however, he stopped, knees wobbling. He placed his hands over his belly. There was a visible distortion in the taut, rounded skin.

“Guys, I don’t feel so good,” he rasped.

A line of blood appeared in a vertical curve down his belly. Urvic screamed. The curtains of flesh ripped apart. A mass of clawed, upright lobster creatures with mouthfuls of tentacles cascaded to the floor on a gush of shredded organs and pink slurry.

Urvic collapsed, too shocked to scream. His parasitic spawn ripped his still-living body apart for nutrients.

Santrier and Casting screamed. They ran for the doors in sheer panic. They never made it out of the church.

Pop! Pop! Sploosh! Sploosh! They collapsed into two more heaps of their ravenous, parasitic births.

The chuul swarms left nothing but hair, tooth, and bone. When they were sate, or at least their first meals had nothing left to offer them, the three clutches of chuuls skittered out from the church into the big, wide, open. 

Leaving six very sick, very stunned captives behind. They were forced to remain in their bonds and filth until nearly nightfall when Eamon, Harcourt, and Lyrath returned from their hunting/gathering mission.

The three hunter-gatherers froze in the mouth of the church. “What the fuck happened here?”

“Just get us down,” rasped Renghe, “because you really don’t wanna know.”


End file.
